At War with the Drow (Open for one woman, PM if interested)

[OrgasmBandit]

At War with the Drow (Closed for AmbrosiaCaress)

A year ago, the peace that the kingdom of Draathil had been enjoying during the previous decade was shattered overnight. In the dark of night, villages nearest the mountains to the west were overrun by the deft, skilled warriors and deadly wizards of the subterranean drow elves, led by their matriarchal priestesses. Lovely as any other elves, these dark-skinned humanoids were a cruel, vicious offshoot of that long-lived race, almost mythical by the time they began to attack the surface due to their rarity away from their underground homes. Not only were they attacking now, however, but they were fortifying their positions, sending slaves back home and readying for invasion deeper into the Draathi heartland.

Things looked bleak for the primarily-human kingdom at first; in the first six months, they were playing catch-up, rushing to mobilize and neutralize the gains made by the invaders. Then, however, what seemed a devastating loss on the surface, the death of the royal general Koriil Lansraad, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. His second in command, it turned out, was a tactical prodigy whose talents were being wasted under his leadership. Maerek Olsden, who would soon come to be known as "The Nighthammer", had a somewhat vicious outlook on war that was ideal in combating the drow, even if his methods made some of the other nobles at court a bit uncomfortable. In the end, however, the king decided that it was worth some discomfort to avoid his country being overrun, and made Maerek's ascension to royal general permanent.

Since then, the war has been a more even affair, and the Draathi even managed to regain some ground. A year into the conflict, however, saw great fortune fall upon The Nighthammer's war effort: during a particularly grueling battle, one of the fabled matron mothers of the drow noble families has fallen into his hands as a prisoner of war. Fitted with a special collar that would prevent her from calling on the favor of their spider goddess Loth, she was then brought to the keep where Maerek was directing the royal armies from, near the main battlefront, and taken to a cell in the dungeons. As the royal general made his way down into the bowels of the keep, there was an intent and curious gleam in his black eyes, a reflection of his musings on what he would find within the cell when he reached it.

 

[OrgasmBandit]

Bump!

 

[OrgasmBandit]

Another bump

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"Valsharr" she had hissed, when her Captors had asked, no, not asked, demanded her name. She had thought about just telling them to gut themselves, but her name was no secret. It held no magical curse, no mystical meaning. It was just her... name... Valsharr... It was not secret that she was the High Priestess fo her people. Of noble blood. It was also not secret that due to the incompetence of her guards, her own fucking people, she had been captured.

If only she had one more moment to call upon the Great one, Loth, she would have been able to tear her Enemy apart. She would have heard them screaming in torment, felt the warmth of their blood splatter across her skin.

But that was not to be. And that thought haunted her as she lay in the darkness.

The cell was chilled. Dark. There was a musty smell, as if there were water nearby that had been standing for years. Sour. Humans would call it creepy. Valsharr could handle all that. Darkness, cold. None of that bothered her. What she especially hated was when the guards appeared, to stare at her nakedness. Some sneered. Some masterbated. Some shouted insults at her. Spit at her. If only she could reach them. Reach thru the bars and close her fingers around their throats. Choke the life out of them. Perhaps grab those cocks that so many liked to lovingly stroke and twist, until it came off in her hand while they stood there screaming.

She was sure she would die in here. Unfortunately, she could not facilitate that herself. The band of steel about her throat, enchanted, powerful magic, magic from beyond the darkness that she once could control, kept her from summoning. Kept her from Loth. Kept her from dying, at least by her own hand.

Closing her sparkling eyes, she grimaced when she heard the bootsteps approaching. Another lowly guard, most likely, coming to see the naked Elf. Her dark skin, albino white hair, pink tipped breasts, on display for any to see. "Fucking Bastards" she hissed, hating using a term that she heard so many humans use... but it was appropriate....


Valsharr:

[/QUOTE]

 

[OrgasmBandit]

The man stepping into her cell might not have been immediately recognizable as the dreaded Nighthammer, but he was also clearly not, as the drow priestess assumed before seeing him, just another guard. Tall, even for a human, he towered over Valsharr as soon as he stepped into the cell, with his long, dark hair flowing freely since he was not on the battlefield. Dressed in courtly clothing of crimson and silver rather than his famed demon armor, he had a commanding presence that was not to be denied, carrying himself with pride...and with courage as well, since he did not flinch upon passing into the room, with no barriers between himself and the prisoner. Every other guard who had deigned to come into the room had shown at least some fear, and never did so alone, as Maerek did then.

As he entered the room, there was a smirk at his lips as his gaze raked over her form; arrogance, hatred, and newly-formed lust swirled in his night-dark eyes as he looked her over appraisingly. Though he wore a sword into the room, his hand did not hover near it, the weapon almost forgotten as though it were a part of him that was not needed at the moment. "So, you know our tongue. That will make this a little easier, then," he spoke, standing a few feet from the matron mother, watching her intently as he went on in his rough-sounding voice, "Though I will have you know that I am no bastard, drow whore. My mother and father were married well before my birth, and my lineage can be traced back centuries. Now that we've straightened that bit out, Valsharr, tell me how it feels to be prisoner to the people you have treated so unjustly since you began your war of aggression? Do you fear what will be done with you? Do you even have any clue what we do with prisoners of war?" There was a clear smugness in his tone as he spoke to her, amusement gleaming in those dark orbs that stared down at her with such animosity.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"So, you know our tongue. That will make this a little easier, then,"

"Though I will have you know that I am no bastard, drow whore. My mother and father were married well before my birth, and my lineage can be traced back centuries. Now that we've straightened that bit out, Valsharr, tell me how it feels to be prisoner to the people you have treated so unjustly since you began your war of aggression? Do you fear what will be done with you?" Do you even have any clue what we do with prisoners of war?"

She knew many dialects. She spoke many tongues. Human had always sounded, well... disgusting to her. Like grunting animals. His voice, his words, were no different. She understood him completely. But the sound still made her grimace.

Do you fear what will be done with you? What we do with prisoners of war?

Fear. Fear was a funny thing. Fear was one emotion that often kept one alive. It was the primal instinct that kicked in to protect ones life. Run. Fear. And live on. She felt fear. She had felt fear many times in her life. But there was an even stronger emotion than Fear. Hatred. Hatred flowed thru her veins. Hatred of humans.

Humans. A disease that propagated the lands. They saw themselves as entitled. They ruled. They destroyed. They did not live in harmony with the land, the world. They conquered.

War.. death... blood... savage... vicious. Humans often spoke of war. And have the sheer audacity to call this her war of aggression. HER war. Her war to wipe the lands clean of the disgust, the filth, that was humans.

And now she was held captive by them.

Did she fear. No. She hated.

"You disgust me. I do not fear you, beast. I do not fear what you will do. I believe...." she paused, sitting up. She was not restrained, other than that damnable collar about her throat, nor was she naked. Not that the bare scrap of cloth she had been allowed to wear covered much, to be honest. That was one reason why the guards approached. Why so many were so.... aroused. The soft, threadbare material clung to every curve of her lush body. She was lean and sleek, almost catlike. Her dark skin smooth and shimmering, accenting by the cascade of ivory that was her long mane. She was young, to be a matron of her people. She looked more like a huntress.

"I believe it is you that perhaps, fear me. Why else would you bind my magic as you do. Why else would you keep me in the darkness, surrounded by iron bars. Why else would your guards quiver even as they pleasure themselves at the site of me."

She did not move from where she sat, taking deep even breaths. She was coiled like a spring. If he came closer, she was prepared to move, to fight, to attack...

 

[OrgasmBandit]

Amusement blossomed amidst the hate in the man's eyes when she claimed not to be afraid, and that he was, in fact, afraid of her. That last addition was enough to make him laugh aloud and shake his head before he addressed her again in that gravelly-sounding voice, "Do you really believe I am so stupid, slut? You are not going to be able to bait your way out of that collar. Tell me, do you let the prisoners you take keep their weapons, their armor, their magical accouterments? Does that mean that you fear them, or simply that you are smart enough to prevent them from causing you further trouble?" With this, Maerek did step closer, though his gaze remained on her intently, watching for any sign of the trouble he just mentioned as he drew nearer to her.

"I will admit that my men might fear you. Our people have heard so many stories about your kind that they don't know truth from exaggeration. No doubt they were expecting you to break that collar yourself and flay them where they stood with a glance, even if they should know better," the Nighthammer admitted, though the cruel smirk never left his lips as he came to tower over her sitting form. Just like some of the other men she had seen since coming to the cell, there was a distinctive swell forming at the front of his breeches, though he did not reach for it so quickly as they did. Instead, his attention remained fixed on her as he went on, "That, however, is why you should fear what I intend to do with you, bitch. Because I plan to show them why they should not fear so deeply. That you are mere flesh, blood, and bone like we are. Who better, after all, than a matron mother, the worst of your kind, to help me with this demonstration?"

At this point, he reached for his sword, but it was not a rushed grasp made out of fear, but rather a calm, smooth motion that freed the blade from its sheathe so that he could lower it beneath the "hem" of that flimsy garment she had been given to wear. Carefully, he used the tip of the sword to raise it, smirking down into her eyes knowingly as he asked her, "So I suppose the question now is whether you will cooperate, or cause yourself even more embarrassment than will already be necessary?" As he asked this, his tone made it sound as if he almost preferred the latter, his dark eyes gleaming expectantly.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"Do you really believe I am so stupid, slut? You are not going to be able to bait your way out of that collar. Tell me, do you let the prisoners you take keep their weapons, their armor, their magical accouterments? Does that mean that you fear them, or simply that you are smart enough to prevent them from causing you further trouble?"

She honestly didn't think he would be fool enough to fall for the bait. But it was worth a try. Not every human was smart. Hell, most were just downright stupid. Many would have fallen for her bravado. She knew that the only reason the guards never came into her cell and followed thru with their treats of rape, or to use her for their pleasure instead of merely standing in the dark and stroking themselves, was because they feared her.... but, she believed they feared HIM even more.

"I will admit that my men might fear you. Our people have heard so many stories about your kind that they don't know truth from exaggeration. No doubt they were expecting you to break that collar yourself and flay them where they stood with a glance, even if they should know better,"

She could not help but smile at those words. If she had been able, if her magic were not so bound, if she could call on Loth, he was right, she would flay his men where they stood. Gut them with nothing more than a flick of a finger. Watch them burn alive, perhaps, as they screamed. The thought was pleasant to her... But it gave her no comfort. She did not have her magic. She did not have Loth. She was at the mercy of the humans. At the mercy of this.... man...

"That, however, is why you should fear what I intend to do with you, bitch. Because I plan to show them why they should not fear so deeply. That you are mere flesh, blood, and bone like we are. Who better, after all, than a matron mother, the worst of your kind, to help me with this demonstration?"

Valsharr hissed at his words. "I do not fear" the words came growling from her lips, dripping with the venom, the pure hatred she felt. She did not flinch when he drew the sword. The blade did not scare her. That blade was a means to an end. If she could get it from him..... But he was deliberate, his movements calculated. He would not be easy to disarm. If she attacked now, he could easily kill her. And to be perfectly honest, the idea of HIM killing her was abhorrent to her. Killing herself was one thing, but to die at the hand of a human was tandamount to the worst possible disgrace, for her, her name, and her people. NO, she would not let that happen... that would mean he... would WIN... and she would not let that happen either.

She watched as the razored edge was lowered, lightly peeking under the threadbared garment she had been forced to adorn. Another hiss sounded. "Get away from me" the words were gutteral, low, barely heard. Bare handed, Valsharr grabbed the blade, feeling the steel slice into her palm. She seethed in pain, biting back the cry that threatened to sneak past her lips. But she held the blade tightly, preventing it from traveling any further or tearing open the cloth that she wore.

"Bastard" she again called him. "Filthy Human"

 

[OrgasmBandit]

"You will, cunt," Maerek responded when she claimed to have no fear, holding her gaze intently with his own as he drew the sword. When she lifted her hands to take the blade into them in order to prevent it from rising any higher and lifting the hem of the garment she wore any higher despite the way that sharp steel bit at her palms. The way she writhed in pain caused the lust in his dark gaze to grow more intense, and he passed his tongue over his lips as he pulled the sword back from between her hands, leaving them and the blade both slick with her blood.

Upon hearing her defiant words, once more calling him a "bastard", he lifts the blade higher anyway, but this time without drawing her clothing up with it. The tip of the came up under her chin, pressing lightly as he glared into her eyes. "Filthy fucking drow, I am no bastard, as I told you. I am Maerek Olsden, known among many of your wretched kind as 'Nighthammer'. You would do well to remember just whom you are dealing with, whore," he told her, before withdrawing the blade entirely and wiping it on his cloak and then sheathing it and adding, "Now, stand up. Or are you the sort of cowardly bitch who will face her fate on her knees?" With this last question, there was a smirk at his lips, the expression on his face as cruel as any drow matron had ever managed. Whatever hate she had for him, it clearly went both way.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

How she managed to surpress the scream of pain, she didn't know. But she did. It did not make it past her lips. Oh a low hiss did, but that was it. The scream died in her throat.

Pulling back her hands, the Dark Elf watched the blood slowly weep from the wounds. It stung like hell. And the warmth of her blood running along her skin was unsettling to say the least. But she had a feeling this would not be the last time she felt her own blood running...

"I am Maerek Olsden, known among many of your wretched kind as 'Nighthammer'. You would do well to remember just whom you are dealing with, whore," he told her, before withdrawing the blade entirely and wiping it on his cloak and then sheathing it and adding, "Now, stand up. Or are you the sort of cowardly bitch who will face her fate on her knees?"

Nighthammer.....

The name sent the coldest shiver down her spine. She knew well of his name. She knew well of his deeds. She knew well of his battles, his victories, his cruelties, his savagedry, his viciousness... She had heard it all. Hell, she had witnessed the aftermath of many a battle with him. She had seen him, in full armor, as he lay waste to countless of her people.

Nighthammer...

This... had caught Valsharr by surprise. She had envisioned the Warrior called Nighthammer to be ... older... More like the king he had replaced. She had imagined him to be heavy, strong... Vicious yes, in a butcher sort of way. When she saw him in full armor, that was what she had envisioned. Maybe that was a critical error on her part. Many had been surprised that she, so young, and so strikingly beautiful for a Drow, was a matron of her people. Had she made that same mistake? Thinking that the Warrior known as Nighthammer was an older man... Certainly what she had not pictured in her mind' s eye when it came to the dreaded Nighthammer, was the younger Man before her now. Or those ebon black eyes. Or the sound of his voice. Gruff, harsh, yes, the voice of an older man. Not the smooth, silken, yet deadly words that came from this man.

She had not realized.

She had not observed.

That was her fault.

"Nighthammer" she repeated. A momentary show of fear... just the briefest of seconds before she snarled back at him... a low sneer at his words.

Valsharr shot to her feet, defiant before him. "I will face what ever you can dare to deal out to me, Human Filth. Pain does not scare me. Death does not scare me" but she.... hesitated... again, the slightest show of fear... "If you can not deal with our Elven Warriors and instead, can only deal with the Elven female, then let me be the example that the mighty Nighthammer, is only able to capture and torture a female. Could you, or would you, even be able to deal with one of MY Warriors... Bastard"...

She knew he hated that word. She would make good use of it...